


Too Good To Be True

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, Character Death Fix, Dark Character, Dark!Ryan, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan has returned from the dead, but it is too good to be true?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Good To Be True

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a birthday fic for munchkinofdoom.
> 
> Spoilers for episode 1.06.

Stephen paced his living room a couple more times before throwing himself down on to the sofa, determined to relax. But the resolution only lasted for about a minute before he was back on his feet again, and once more wearing out the carpet.  
  
He knew he was doing himself no good at all, getting worked up like this. But he couldn’t help it. Cutter had called an hour previously to tell him that, barring a few more odds and sods of paperwork, Ryan was now free to leave the ARC, and that he would be bringing the soldier round to Stephen’s flat at some point this evening.  
  
It was the news Stephen had been waiting to hear for the last five days, and the relief he’d felt when Cutter had announced Ryan’s release had been overwhelming.  
  
But, unexpectedly, it had also made him incredibly nervous. He could still remember with perfect clarity the moment that Ryan had stepped out of the anomaly, three months almost to the day after he had died in the Permian. He could still remember his faltering steps towards the soldier, his breathless stuttering of Ryan’s name, before Jenny and Lyle had interposed themselves between them. And he could still remember the way Ryan had looked at him, completely expressionless, as he was bundled away and into one of the vehicles to be taken back to the ARC.  
  
He hadn’t seen other man since, and more than once he’d awoken in the middle of the night, wondering if he’d dreamed the whole episode and that in fact his lover’s body was still lying in some forgotten corner of prehistory.  
  
He’d been kept up to date on the progress of Ryan’s debriefings, although he hadn’t been allowed to know anything except that Ryan was all right, and that he was being thoroughly questioned. Military officials had arrived from Hereford to play their own part in the process, taking over where Lester had left off, and Stephen could only imagine how frustrated Ryan must be with the whole process.  
  
But now the questioning and interrogations were over, and Ryan was finally coming home. Stephen suspected that both Cutter and Jenny had had a hand in persuading Lester that the soldier would be better off with him instead of remaining at the ARC, and he was grateful to them. He knew he certainly wouldn’t have had a hope of getting Lester to agree – his frequent, and loud, demands to see Ryan over the past few days had only succeeded in fraying his boss’s already acerbic temper until he’d snapped, and banished Stephen not only from his office, but from the ARC altogether, barring any anomaly-related incidents.  
  
The ringing of the doorbell had Stephen spinning on his heel so fast that he stumbled and almost fell. Then he was hurrying to the front door as quickly as he could, wrenching it open to find Cutter standing on the threshold.  
  
He spared a brief smile for his friend, but his eyes were already searching, alighting almost immediately on Ryan where he stood, further back in the shadows of the hallway. He fought to stop his smile turning into full-blown lunatic grin, although he knew he hadn’t quite succeeded.  
  
“Well, here we are,” Cutter was saying. “As promised.” He paused. “Can we come in, then?”  
  
“What? Oh, of course!” Sheepishly, Stephen stood back to let the two men into the flat. Cutter gave him an indulgent smile as he stepped through the door. Ryan didn’t look at him at all, staring straight ahead as he brushed past.  
  
Stephen’s grin faltered for a second at Ryan’s lack of reaction, but then he told himself firmly not to be so silly. Ryan had been through a lot recently, of that there was no doubt. It couldn’t be easy to learn that you’d come back from the dead, and that everyone, including your lover, had been mourning for you. That was a lot even for a highly trained Special Forces soldier to take in.  
  
Cutter had already disappeared into the living room, Ryan trailing behind, and Stephen took a moment to gather himself, under the pretence of shutting the front door, before he followed suit.  
  
He found Cutter standing next to the sofa, bending over to rummage in a bag he’d dumped on the coffee table. Ryan was standing on the other side of the room, opposite the door. His face still gave nothing away.  
  
“We packed some stuff up to tide Ryan over for a few days,” Cutter said. “But he’ll need to make a start on replacing his possessions sooner rather than later. Oh, and the medic at the ARC sent along these.” He straightened up, waving a little bottle triumphantly. “Painkillers. He took a few knocks during his, er, time away, and he’ll need them.”  
  
“He’s standing right there, Cutter,” Stephen said sharply, suddenly nettled by the way Cutter seemed to be treating Ryan. “Surely he can tell me this himself?” He turned to Ryan, waiting for the soldier to speak up, but Ryan just continued to look around the room, apparently in disinterest, although Stephen could see the keen, assessing look in his eyes.  
  
“Oh.” Catching hold of Stephen’s arm, Cutter pulled him away a little, almost back into the hall. “Look, Stephen,” he said quietly. “You can’t expect things to go back to the way they were straight away.”  
  
“Of course I don’t,” Stephen replied in exasperation. “I know it’s going to take time. But you don’t have to treat him like he’s going to break at any second. Lester and the military would never have let him leave the ARC if he wasn’t going to be fine.” He hesitated. “He _is_ going to be fine, isn’t he?” he asked in a softer voice.  
  
“Oh yes,” Cutter assured him quickly, although he rather ruined the effect by adding, “I’m sure he will be.” Then he sighed, before continuing. “Look, obviously I wasn’t privy to any of his interviews with Lester and the military, but I understand they all went satisfactorily, and that Ryan managed to convince them that he would be fit to return to duty. He demonstrated some confusion about the whole ‘coming back from the dead’ thing, but that’s understandable, considering that from his point of view he never died at all.”  
  
“It’s _completely_ understandable,” said Stephen, his voice low and emphatic.  
  
“But _you_ have to understand that he’s still adjusting to this new situation of his,” Cutter said, equally emphatically. He’s obviously still processing things, so don’t be surprised if he’s a bit withdrawn. I can tell you he hasn’t been especially communicative outside of his interviews. In fact, I think we’re all hoping you might be able to bring him out of his shell a bit.”  
  
Cutter smiled lopsidedly, and Stephen felt pressure suddenly settling on his shoulders. But he squared them determinedly. Ryan needed him, and he wouldn’t let him down.  
  
Seeing his resolve, Cutter nodded in satisfaction, and smiled again. “Well, shall I leave you two to it then?” he said, his voice louder now to include Ryan. The soldier still didn’t reply, so Stephen answered for both of them.  
  
“Yes, I think we’ll be okay now. Thanks for everything, Cutter.”  
  
“You’re welcome. Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.” He gave Stephen a quick squeeze on the shoulder, and then he was gone.  
  
Stephen waited until he heard the click of the catch on the front door before he turned back to Ryan, plastering what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face. “Well, here we are then,” he said, and then immediately cursed himself for the inanity of the remark.  
  
 _Great start, Stephen._  
  
He tried again. “Maybe you’d like to get settled in?” he said hesitantly. “Put you stuff away? Perhaps I could get you something to drink. Or eat?”  
  
But Ryan remained silent, and Stephen felt his determination start to crumble under the soldier’s implacable stare. His nerves were returning, and he almost fancied that he could see a coldness in Ryan’s eyes, and a hint of disdain in his face.  
  
 _This is ridiculous. It’s Ryan, for heaven’s sake!_ Stephen had known Ryan for months before his death, and had shared his life and his bed with the soldier. So why was he having such a problem talking to him now?  
  
“Look, if you want some space, that’s fine. I’ll leave you alone for a bit. And you can sleep in the spare room, if you’d prefer that. I don’t want to put any pressure on you.” Stephen felt his heart clench painfully as he uttered the words, even though he knew it was the right thing to say. But he’d felt Ryan’s absence each and every night he’d been forced to sleep alone, and if anything his bed had seemed even emptier this past week, while he’d waited impatiently for Ryan to be returned to him.  
  
“I’ll go and make up the bed for you,” he said in a low voice. “Make yourself at home, and then we can figure out what to do next.”  
  
“So we’re together, are we?”  
  
“I…what?” Stephen’s relief at hearing Ryan speak was quickly replaced by confusion at his words. He frowned. This didn’t make sense. “What do you mean?”  
  
“It figures,” said Ryan, ignoring the question, “that I would choose the best of the bunch.” His eyes were sweeping over Stephen appraisingly. “I obviously have good taste.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” said Stephen falteringly, suddenly feeling very much like a piece of livestock on the sales block. “What’s going on here?”  
  
Ryan’s lips quirked upwards in what could only be described as a cruel smile. “What’s going on here,” he said mockingly, “is that, in their eagerness to accept me back, your people have overlooked the blindingly obvious. Either that, or I’m a _superb_ actor.”  
  
He moved suddenly, slipping smoothly across the room until he was standing right in front of a shocked and silent Stephen.  
  
“Not what you were expecting, was it, blue eyes?” he taunted. “So sorry to disappoint you, but there aren’t going to be any hearts and flowers and tearful reunions today.”  
  
Without warning, Ryan backhanded Stephen savagely across the face, the force of the blow such that Stephen lost his balance. He tasted blood as he went down, but that paled into insignificance as his head impacted the coffee table with a dull thud, and the world tilted crazily around him.  
  
Stars were dancing in front of his eyes, warring with the blackness creeping in around the edges of his vision. He shook his head a little to chase them away, but all he succeeded in doing was make the world spin even more, and thus he had no fight to give when Ryan hauled him to his feet again, and roughly folded him over the back of the sofa.  
  
The abrupt movement and new position made the nausea rise in his throat, and he fought not to vomit as Ryan leaned over and spoke in his ear.  
  
“I’m not going to be around for long, but it seems a shame not to take advantage of the available comforts while I’m here, don’t you think?”  
  
Stephen felt his jeans and underwear being yanked down, heard Ryan spitting into his hand, but it was only when he felt the other man’s cock pressing against the cleft of his arse that he started to struggle feebly against, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the sofa cushions as he tried to find some leverage to lash out at the body behind him.  
  
But Ryan merely chuckled, his hand landing in the small of Stephen’s back and pressing down with vicelike intensity. “None of that,” he admonished. “This will go a lot more smoothly if you don’t struggle.”  
  
Stephen ignored the ‘advice’, and wriggled desperately again. But he was held firmly in place now, and as Ryan pushed forward again he felt himself breached, the hard cock sliding roughly inside his unstretched and unlubricated body.  
  
He couldn’t stop the cry that escaped his lips at the pain, tears slipping down his cheeks as Ryan thrust into him brutally, the violation almost choking him even as he tried to detach himself from what was happening.  
  
The only mercy (and it was barely worthy of the name) was that Ryan didn’t take long about his business, and after only a few moments he came inside Stephen’s body with a harsh grunt.  
  
Stephen waited for him to pull out, gritting his teeth against more anticipated pain, but instead Ryan leaned over again, still buried to the hilt inside him, to murmur once more in his ear.  
  
“Thanks, blue eyes. I must say, I can see why my alter-ego liked this pretty arse of yours. How unfortunate that I won’t be around to appreciate it further.”  
  
Then he was stepping back, and Stephen moaned brokenly as his cock dragged free. There was the sound of a zipper being done up, and then a low, satisfied laugh.  
  
“See you around, blue eyes.”  
  
Not even the sound of the front door slamming could convince Stephen he was alone, and it was long moments before he could summon up the courage to slowly unbend himself, sliding down the back of the sofa until he was huddled in a heap on the floor. The backs of his thighs were wet and sticky, but he didn’t dare check to see if it was because of blood or come. And besides, would one really be any better than the other?  
  
He knew he should call the ARC, call Cutter, call _anyone_. Ryan wasn’t Ryan, and who knew what damage he could do with his knowledge of the anomalies and his military skills.  
  
But Stephen’s only movement was to raise a trembling hand in a futile attempt to wipe away the tears still tracking down his cheeks.  
  
Only minutes ago he’d been deliriously happy and full of hope – he’d felt like the luckiest person in the entire world.  
  
Now he was broken and battered and utterly destroyed.  
  
Stephen put his face in his hands, and sobbed.


End file.
